It's the Kobayashi Maru Test of Sanity and you're in the Captain's chair. Lock photon torpedoes and fire 'cause it's Rob's Random...4?!?

Random thought number 5 is on holiday for a week, so it's just the 4 thoughts: Oliver Reed with a license to kill, the haunting annoyance of humidity, disasters set to 70s music, and I try to be funny. What a week! Oh, and fifty extra Random Points to you if you know what the Kobayashi Maru test is.

1. Humidity: Ma Nature was either drunk or on a dare when she created humidity. Or maybe she was trying to please indecisive people who like heat and damp and just can't pick. Humidity has to be the worst weather. It makes you feel sticky and lethargic, you can't sleep at night, your clothes stick to you, your hair goes crazy, and you begin to think dying of hypothermia would be a treat. And besides the discomfort it causes, humidity is the least interesting weather condition to write about. Look at it this way: almost every weather condition has a literary tether - fog is used to emphasise mystery, thunder and lightning are used to add drama, rain is used as a revealing agent to wash away secrets or to cleanse new, wind signifies change and momentum, while sun reflects happiness and desire. I'm not making this up; these are actual bona fide literary devices. All of them have appeared in books, especially the classics. Think of the fog in 'Bleak House' or the thunderstorm in 'King Lear' and see how they each add to the story. They're vital to the heartbeat and drama of a tale. But humidity is practically never used because it's so painfully dull. The only piece of fiction I can think of it appearing in is 'A Streetcar Named Desire', and all it does there is provoke lots of hot baths and a couple of arguments (the rape doesn't count - that's Stanley's fault. You can't blame sexual assaults on the amount of moisture in the atmosphere) See? Humidity is boring. Sticky and boring, like some kind of poor-quality jam. Or Lady Gaga drowning in a vat of treacle. And believe me, you'll wish she would after seeing this story about her.

2. Stand-up and be counted: A few weeks ago Chris suggested I should try my hand at some stand-up comedy. I have to say it's something I've never considered - making jokes in a conversation and making jokes in cartoons are a world away from telling jokes to a crowd expecting you to be funny - but the fact that someone thinks I'd be good at it made me actually start to think about giving it a go, just to see if I could. And after a bit of thinking I've decided I'm game for a go. I've been on stage and spoken in front of crowds on lots of occasions so that doesn't worry me, and I'm certainly not worried about embarrasing myself (heck, I tend to make a habit of it on a daily basis). It's not as if I'm trying to make a career out of it or anything so I have nothing to lose. Plus, my ability to blabber on about even weird or insignificant things will be put to good use. All I need now are a few good jokes and an open mic night. Watch this space.

3. Disasteriffic!:Had a depressing week? Me too. Let's watch this together to cheer ourselves up.

That was fun. And just a little bit mad. Brilliant.

4. James Bun: I've mentioned Bond's drinking habits before but now I'm starting to get worried. James Bond eats and drinks an awful lot in the novel Goldfinger; to such an extent that where I had an image of a lean Sean Connery type running around firing guns at explosions, driving fast cars into explosions and making love to impossibly beautiful women while stuff is exploding, all I can picture now is a paunchy middle-aged man, waddling drunkenly around the city streets sweating profusely as he contemplates his next meal and the prospect of driving home drunk in a car worth more than his house. And the only thing in danger of exploding in that scenario is his belt buckle. Seriously, the man just polished off a bottle of bourbon while captured by Goldfinger - you can't expect him to do anything vaguely 'Bond' with that much liquor sloshing around in his belly (and frankly I'm surprised Q hasn't packed some antacids in a secret compartment in his shoe or something). In fact, throughout the whole book he just comes across as a real liquored-up bastard who loves a good meal. Would you leave the fate of the world to a man who makes Oliver Reed look sober? I think not.